Win or Lose
by KLMeri
Summary: To salvage a friendship, Jim decides on a course of action that he fears may backfire in an unfortunate way. Gen. - COMPLETE
1. Part One

**Title**: Win or Lose (1/?)  
**Author**: klmeri  
**Fandom**: Star Trek AOS  
**Characters**: Kirk, Spock, McCoy  
**Summary**: To salvage a friendship, Jim decides on a course of action that he fears may backfire in an unfortunate way.  
**A/N**: I think this is going to be done as a series of drabbles. What say you?

* * *

The silence wasn't just chilly; it was frigid. Jim imagined he could see frost patterns forming on the cab windows. Being in the middle of this cold war wasn't, he decided as he glanced to either side of him, the best place he had ever found himself. He really should have taken that pretty girl's offer for a romp at the hotel instead of doing a city tour with two senior command officers that had the potential to become a disaster.

And a disaster this was, a rather spectacular one. _Stupid, Kirk_, he chastised himself.

Bones's face was turned towards the window, but Jim felt he could accurately picture how the man must look: nostrils flared, eyes narrowed, a look of irritation twisting his mouth into a severe frown. Spock, on the other hand, managed to appear both uncaring and angry without expression. It was a feat accomplished mostly by his eyebrows. Jim wanted to award a commendation to those eyebrows for such a unique talent.

He loosed a whoosh of breath, crossed his arms, and sunk further into the poorly padded cab seat. This silence was going to utterly ruin the rest of his day if it continued. Somebody had to say something. He coughed a little, just as a warning, and opened his mouth to speak.

"Not a _word_, Jim" came the low growl on his right.

Jim closed his mouth and gave his friend a wounded look. Leonard didn't bother to stop glaring out of the window to acknowledge it so Jim turned to broadcast _I'm hurt by your rejection _to Spock. The Vulcan refused to twitch, eyes stubbornly fixed on the back of their driver's head. Or maybe he was actually utilizing this quiet time to study the Andorian's antennas. One could never tell with Spock.

Lifting a hand to rub at his forehead, Jim complained, "I have a headache. You're giving me a headache. Can't we _talk _about it?"

"Not until I'm dead 'n gone."

Unfortunately, that was an opening Jim realized belatedly Spock would never pass up, especially in his calm-but-really-pissed-beyond-compare mindset.

"Illogical. Death would preclude discussion, Doctor."

Too close to Jim's ear, Leonard's temper exploded. "It means I refuse to talk about what happened, you pointy-eared bastard!"

"Bones..."

Leonard had abandoned all pretense of being interested in the world beyond the cab window in order to fix his frighteningly angry gaze on the Vulcan, who met that look with a dark scrutiny of his own. "But that would please you, wouldn't it, Spock—if I was dead?"

This time Jim snapped out his friend's name. "You will not say that again," he warned the man. "_Ever_."

Leonard transferred his fierce gaze to Jim, tone suddenly milder, apologetic. "Sorry, Jim."

It wasn't just anger ablaze in those eyes but a stark unhappiness too. The sight of it made Jim's stomach turn. "Listen," he said, desperately grasping at random ideas to fix this awful situation, "I could demand an apology and a reconciliation from both of you—"

Spock's flat look spoke volumes on how he felt about that suggestion.

"—but we all know neither of those things will count if you don't mean them. So," damn but he hoped this worked, "I want you to stay away from each other for the time being, until I say otherwise."

Leonard's face took on a slightly comical expression. "What?"

Jim drew in a deep breath. "You have my order," he said firmly. "Unless it's ship's business, do not socialize with one another. Need I define the concept of socializing?" He hoped his easy tone gave nothing away.

"Negative, Captain," the Vulcan, dutiful as ever, replied.

Leonard was slower to agree but only because he seemed confused. "Jim, I'm not exactly sure where the punishment part comes in here, but I'd be a fool to look a gift horse in the mouth."

"You'd also be insubordinate," Jim pointed out.

Leonard snorted and sat back, dropping his hands to his knees and looking more relaxed than he had in a long time.

Jim said nothing else. He kept his hands still but his mind worried. Bones seemed content. Spock really _was _making a study of the Andorian driver now.

Would this gamble turn out to be a poor bet?

**TBC**


	2. Part Two

Spock and McCoy weren't just _sometimes_ idiots, they were _all-the-time-our-goal-in-life-is-to-break-our-captain-in-tiny-ways _idiots.

This Jim decided as he re-read the third missive from his CMO. Bones had written: _Dinner tonight? And remember! You can't invite the hobgoblin!_

He had ended the missive with a smiley face. A smiley face. Jim was surprised Bones knew what emoticons were. But the infernal smiley faces had been popping up all over McCoy's paperwork for the last two weeks.

Kirk's forehead connected painfully with the surface of his desk. He sat up immediately because that had been a poor expression of his despair. Now his head hurt more than usual. Resigned to another migraine, if not because of the physical abuse to his skull then solely due to the stress of a failing plan, Jim called for the lights of his quarters to lower by fifteen percent and switched off his computer. He would close his eyes for a few minutes. Perhaps by then a new strategy would occur to him, though one had not been forthcoming the last twenty times he tried to tackle the challenge.

Some time later, close to an hour, Jim woke up without a grand idea on how to make Spock and McCoy come to their senses. He only knew he couldn't, at this point, go back on his word—much less an order. Most of all, he surely couldn't beg them to like each other again.

_You idiots_, the captain thought grimly. _What is it going to take to make you realize a command team needs to be as close as a family?_

But what if Bones and Spock were simply incapable of understanding that thinking? What then?

* * *

"You must know you're probably upsetting him," the woman at Leonard's shoulder said.

Leonard pointedly ignored her and hen-pecked out the next line of his report.

"Really, Leonard, _smiley faces? _Our poor captain!"

He pursed his lips, hunkered lower over his desk, and stayed stubbornly silent.

Christine was not one to accept being ignored. She prodded the bony part of his shoulder with the edge of her clipboard.

"Stop that!" he snapped.

"Oops, that was an accident," the nurse replied blandly. "So, about the—"

He interjected quickly, "I like 'em."

"You _hate _them. Don't you remember what you did to Nurse Tompkins?"

"Good god, she deserved the clean-up duty! The woman drew those big, creepy frowns at me on her padd whenever I said something she didn't like!"

"We all do that, Doctor. Some of us are just brave enough to do it in public rather than keep it in our heads." She went on to mutter something about that crazy nurse and _heroism_.

"It's not the proper way to show respect to a superior in a staff meeting," he finished doggedly and turned back to his report with a _hmph_.

Over his head, Christine released a long sigh. "I wish Mr. Spock would come by."

Leonard's shoulders hunched further. He couldn't tell if she was provoking him on purpose or not. "We don't need 'im, and good riddance too. Now get back to your duties, Nurse."

If she mimed smacking his head from behind, he didn't turn around to catch her in the act. When Chapel was gone, on his report Leonard ended a sentence with a :), scowled at it, and backspaced.

He was still happy, damn it. He was! Jim's silly order was the best damn thing that'd happened to him on this tin can. Though why the heck his blood pressure had been going up over the last two weeks instead of down was beyond him.

Out of spite, Leonard switched to his messenger and made a whole row of smiley faces. Then he typed at the bottom _see you at dinner, salad for everybody! _and forwarded the message on to Jim.

* * *

The built-in comm at Jim's desk gave a buzz, and Jim answered it. "Kirk here."

"Commander Spock here, Captain."

"Yes, Commander," Jim replied, feeling a tinge of amusement at the thought of possibly mistaking Spock's monotone for someone else. "What is it?"

There was a pause, infinitesimal but enough to count with Spock. Then Spock said, "If you are not otherwise occupied, might I have a moment of your time?"

"Sure, Spock. C'mon over."

Jim had only taken a few steps away from his desk when a door slid open, admitting the Vulcan through their shared bathroom into Jim's quarters. Jim retreated back to the desk and settled a hip against one corner of it.

Spock's gaze roved over the room as he made a quick assessment of the surroundings. What Spock was looking for, Jim didn't bother to guess. "McCoy's not here," he said, then added, "but he is due over in an hour or so."

"I will keep our meeting brief, then," Spock replied.

Jim wished dearly Spock would give away something of what he was thinking. He felt he was fairly adept at interpreting the nuances of his First Officer after a couple of years in service with him and prided himself on that skill, just like he did with his ability to see beneath McCoy's grouchy blustering. But as of late, the Vulcan had been harder to read than usual.

"I'm sorry, what?" Jim said when he realized Spock had spoken to him and was expecting an answer. "I was lost in thought."

"Indeed," remarked his friend. "I merely inquired if you would be adverse to dinner in my quarters."

Only through years of self-discipline did Jim manage not to squirm. "Oh—oh, well, you see that is the nature of Bo—Doctor McCoy's visit. Dinner," he finished, somewhat chagrined.

"Of course" came the smooth reply, as though this news did not disappoint Spock in the least. "In that case, Captain, I believe it would be best if I took my leave."

Jim almost let him go, but when Spock reached the door to the bathroom, a niggling thought caused him to cry out, "Wait!"

Spock paused on the threshold and wordlessly did as Jim requested.

"Is there nothing else? Nothing you wanted to say—or ask?" _Can't you tell me why you and Bones were so angry with each other that day? _That question he had voiced only once, and Spock had cut it down ruthlessly. There'd be no point in asking again and expecting cooperation, Jim knew.

"Negative."

The tiny flare of hope died as quickly as it had been born. Jim dropped his full weight back against the desk. "All right, Spock," he said, unaware of how weary he sounded. "Have a good evening."

Spock nodded slightly and retreated.

"Damn," Jim murmured, lifting a hand and dragging it through his short hair. Spock was one of the best chess players on the ship, and accordingly Jim had reached a stalemate with him. The Vulcan was not going to yield. Maybe he thought since Jim had given the order, it was Jim who had to admit the foolishness of his ways and retract it.

Well, Jim couldn't do that. So it would have to be McCoy's sensibilities that he appealed to. He figured that would sour the mood of their companionable dinner quickly enough.

Which was fine with Jim, in that moment, because his mood had soured the first time he had had to pick and choose when and where and how he spent his time with his two friends so he didn't violate his own orders. This jostling of schedules and being pulled in separate directions rather than one suited him ill.

If he couldn't fix what was broken, ultimately he would have to step back from them both.

That Jim did not like; that was facing a no-win scenario, and since the moment he was old enough to comprehend how his father had died, facing death at the hand of an enemy ship, Jim had refused to believe in such a scenario.

But now was not the time to dredge up old issues. Bones was coming over, and Jim had a doctor to wrangle.


	3. Part Three

"Bones..."

McCoy stabbed his salad fork in Jim's direction. "I should have known it. I should have known!" He pushed out of his chair angrily.

Jim was on his friend's heels and then blocking the path to the door in an instant.

"Get outta my way," the dark-haired man said with menace.

"Can't do that," Jim replied, taking a wide stance and balancing his weight as he would in any fight, regardless of who the opponent was.

Leonard's fingers tightened into a fist around his fork, which he had yet to let go of, and he pivoted and strode back to the table. He stood there with his back to Kirk, head bent as if he was studying the remnants of their meal. Jim knew from past experience Leonard was counting slowly to twenty before he did something rash.

Jim gave Leonard those twenty seconds plus a few extra in order to calm down. Finally, once the muscles of McCoy's body had noticeably slackened and he sat down, Jim went back to his abandoned chair and dropped into it, feeling rather weak after such a long moment of tension.

"You're the one who gave the order," Leonard said, voice close to normal again.

"I know. Ever heard the saying 'the road to hell is paved with good intentions'?"

Leonard slumped backwards into his seat and silently fixed a stare on Jim.

Jim rubbed his palm against the side of his forehead. "This is hell for me, Bones. Maybe not for you or Spock, but for me it is. I want things back the way they were before shore leave."

The line of McCoy's jaw softened. "Jim, I know it's been hard on you to keep us separate when you're used to having us both around at the same time, but have you stopped to think that things might be better this way?"

Jim's hand fell to the table and formed a fist. "It's _not _better," he argued. "You felt how strained the atmosphere was on the Bridge last time you stopped by. Maybe the others don't know exactly what is different between you and Spock, but they sense something of it. And if anyone begins to feel they need to pick a side..."

Leonard's eyes darkened. "I'll stop coming by the Bridge, then."

Jim closed his eyes, disappointed at McCoy's solution. "You would give that up?"

"If you think I'm affecting crew morale then I don't have a choice, do I, Jim?" Leonard looked away. "Spock was always sayin' he belonged on the Bridge 'n I didn't... guess he'll finally get his wish."

Jim slammed his fist on the table, startling them both. "Don't use this as an excuse!"

"Jim?"

Jim stood up and paced away. "You're putting nails in the coffin when we don't even know if the man's dead yet."

Leonard sounded closer now. He was following Jim across the room. "Jim, are you feeling okay?"

Jim swung in another direction and put distance between himself and the object of his ire. Then he rounded on his friend. "What was so terrible that it broke things between you?" he demanded.

Leonard's mouth became a thin line. Jim wanted nothing more than to grab the man and shake the answers out of him. He might have, too, if the entrance to the bathroom had not opened.

Spock came into the room without permission. By the impassivity on his face, he had had no intention of asking for that permission. Leonard froze at the sight of Spock and murmured something—probably a curse—too low for Jim to catch.

"I heard a disturbance," Spock said, directing his statement to Jim.

Leonard's throat worked like he really wanted to make a retort to that, maybe about superior Vulcan hearing when an ear's pressed up against a keyhole.

Jim recognized an opportunity when he saw one. "I'm glad you're here, Spock. Bones was about to explain to me why it's your fault I had to disturb the order of the ship to accommodate your tiff." He had phrased his sentence in exactly the right way; Jim knew that the moment he saw something flash quickly through the Vulcan's eyes.

"Doctor McCoy presumes too much if he believes he can convince you of a lie."

"You—_you son of a bitch!_"

Spock turned a cold look on McCoy. "You appear to have an affinity for attacking my parentage, Dr. McCoy—one I find distasteful in the extreme. Do not refer to my mother in that manner again."

"Who was bad-mouthing whose parent first, Spock?" Leonard shot back. "I seem to recall minding my own damn business when you brought my father up!"

Jim shifted on his feet, curious to hear the rest but ready to intervene if this discussion came to blows. He had no desire to watch Spock try to strangle Bones. His own throat ached at the memory of how that felt.

"Then you have misinterpreted my statement, Doctor. I said nothing ill of your father."

"You were sticking your nose where it didn't belong! You don't know a damned thing about how my father felt in relation to me! Then again," McCoy practically spit, "I bet you don't have much experience with being close to a parent. God knows, you avoided your mother until the last possible second."

Jim planted a hand on Spock's chest and ordered, "Keep it leashed, Commander." To Bones he said, voice hard, "That was uncalled-for, McCoy."

The doctor's chest heaved, whether out of burning anger or out of fear because of the wild look in Spock's eyes Jim didn't know. When Jim was fairly certain Spock wasn't going to rip McCoy limb from limb (even then he was far from 100% certain), he lifted his hands in what he hoped was a calming gesture and tried to salvage a situation that had spun out of control. The scene was eerily reminiscent of the cab, with McCoy facing away, vibrating with intense unpleasant emotion, while Spock's frighteningly blank gaze remained fixed on a distant spot on the wall.

"Okay, guys. This meltdown cannot—and will not—happen again. Am I clear?"

No one responded.

Jim switched his approach. "Listen, family is a touchy subject for all three of us. We each have a dead parent, don't we?" He suppressed a flinch. "And even if we did not have a close relationship with that parent, or a relationship at all," he joked, but that fell flat to his own ears, "we're going to feel sensitive any time that subject is brought up because…" Jim drew a breath. "...death cannot be undone."

"It's still not the same between us, Jim—the regret."

Jim lowered his hands, simply grateful someone was willing to speak to him. "Why is that, Bones?" It might have been his imagination that he saw a faint tremor run through McCoy's limbs before the man tucked his hands farther into his armpits.

"You didn't know your father, and he didn't know you." Despite that Leonard wouldn't look Jim's way, but Jim could still see the apology for those words in his friend's face even as he spoke them. Unfortunately, the apology didn't lessen the hurt. Jim tried valiantly to push past that which tried to swamp him.

Leonard was still talking. "Spock lost his mother in the process of saving her. Me?" McCoy held out his hands, palms up, as if he meant to inspect them. "I killed my parent. Literally. Now, you tell me: of the three of us which is worse?"

Jim had only heard Leonard speak about that time with his father twice before; hearing it now surprised him. He didn't know what to say, could only wonder if this was what had been festering in his friend since the day he and Spock tangled.

Leonard lowered his hands, released a sigh that sounded sad, said, "This isn't going to work, Jim" and, before Jim could stop him, left. Perhaps Spock was thankful to be released from enduring the emotional discomfort in the room. He too pivoted swiftly on the ball of his foot and retreated through the bathroom into his own quarters. Jim sat at the end of his bed and squeezed his head between his hands.

The backfired plan was only getting worse.

* * *

The volatile conversation that had happened in his quarters bothered Jim all night and into the next day. He tried to put it out of his mind but with the boring task of star-charting, he had too much time on his hands to think. As if attuned to him, the Enterprise drifted in a slow circle and found no relief from the endless void of space. Had it only been three weeks since their last shore leave? The time of relaxation felt far, far away.

In the end, Jim had to find McCoy. Arms crossed and leaning against the open doorway to the CMO's office in the middle of his on-duty shift, Jim finally voiced his thoughts. "Is this really about parents, Bones?"

Following a long minute without a reply, Jim thought Leonard might simply ignore his presence. Then McCoy put down his stylus with care and said, "No, it's not."

Jim accepted that as tacit permission to enter his friend's office. He took a seat across the desk from McCoy and sat in silence for several seconds before speaking again. "Spock didn't know about your father. You didn't have to reveal that."

Leonard dropped his gaze to his hands. "Not sure why I did."

"You did it to make a point that he's not the only one hurting."

Bones glanced up at him, slightly amused. "Changing occupations on me, Jim?"

"No," Jim said, leaning back in his chair, "but I'm not completely hopeless at being a good friend." He implored the man with a grave look, "Tell me how I can help you."

"With which problem?"

Jim swallowed the first words that came to him and settled on, "With the immediate one—Spock."

"He's a problem, all right," muttered McCoy darkly.

"Bones."

"Sorry." Leonard frowned and restlessly shifted a padd on his desk. "I'm not certain it's something that warrants fixin' or even can be fixed, Jim. We just don't get along—like hot and cold."

"I don't believe that."

"You mean you refuse to believe it."

"Exactly," Jim agreed without any real heat. "You can't be at odds with my First Officer." He didn't need a rhyme or reason; he just knew that to be the truth in his heart.

"Well you can't expect me to see good in everybody I meet!"

"That's just it, Bones," Jim said quickly, earnestly, as he leaned forward, "you do see the good in everyone. You saw it in me that day on the shuttle in Riverside when you handed me your flask."

"I thought you looked like you needed a drink, and I had a drink to offer," Leonard corrected with a snort.

Jim shook his head, knowing their different interpretations weren't worth fighting over. "So why not Spock?" he pressed.

"Damn it, Jim..."

He gave McCoy a look that said he wasn't backing down or letting this go.

"Fine, fine," his friend caved with a tired drawl. "Spock is—Spock sets my teeth on edge sometimes. Logic is not the end-all, be-all! If it was, how would people like us have ended up in space?"

Jim's mouth twitched. "Are you claiming I don't think logically?"

"You sure as hell don't, Jim. I get headaches just tryin' to follow a fraction of the mental leaps you make."

Jim automatically touched his temple at the word headache, slightly embarrassed by his silly superstition; but the gentle ache at the back of his skull, as if sensitive to mentions of head pain, did marginally increase (though not enough to be considered anything except low-grade in his opinion when compared to a full-blown, tear-inducing migraine).

One of Leonard's hands dropped to a desk drawer and drew out a hypospray. "How much of your medication have you used this week?"

Jim took a moment to recall that figure. "Two pills?"

Face grim, Leonard stood and came around the desk. Jim knew it was pointless to run and stayed still like a good patient while McCoy depressed the hypospray into the skin of his neck.

"Two pills in seven days is not a lot by most doctors' standards," Jim's Chief Medical Officer said as he removed the empty cartridge from the hypospray.

"Then why did I have to have that shot?" Jim asked.

"Because it's two too many for you. We both know you don't touch that stuff unless the pain is truly phenomenal or on the occasion I threaten to shove it down your throat. Why," the man sounded exasperated, peeved and more than a little bit resigned, "didn't you tell me the migraines were back?"

"When aren't they?" Jim muttered under his breath as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Listen, I want to talk about Spock and how we can fix this."

Leonard sat on the corner of his desk. "I told you we can't, Jim. Besides, he's probably thrilled to pieces I'm not interrupting his peace of mind. But I know I..." Leonard trailed off instead of finishing his sentence.

"You what, Bones?" Jim wanted to know, sensing a minor breakthrough about to happen and wanting it badly.

The doctor concentrated on rubbing the tips of his fingers together. "...I don't know."

"Sure you do," Jim prompted him gently. He signed an X across his chest. "Promise I won't tell. Cross my heart and hope to die!"

"Where did you even get that saying, kid? And please, _please _don't ever hope to die. The last thing I need is an impromptu surgery and the pains of pulling a miracle out of my ass because you like to challenge fate so stupidly like that."

Jim smiled.

Leonard blew out a breath, then another. At last he confessed, "I might miss him a little."

Jim felt his smile grow into a grin.

"Stop that," McCoy grumbled. "It's not the kind of declaration you think it is, you pea-brained ninny. I'm just sayin'," Leonard cast his eyes around his office with a touch of desperation before lighting on something, "my workload is terrible without that blasted Vulcan! I'll give him credit where credit is due, he can write a report better than any man on this ship." McCoy smirked slightly. "I might fudge a few important details and skip a few others before I turn something in to him, 'cause I know he'll re-write the damn report as he sees fit anyhow. His reply is always oozing satisfaction when he informs me he revised the 'draft' so it's suitable for submission to Command." Leonard's smirk turned into a frown. "Now he doesn't reply to the messages at all..."

Jim put a hand to his mouth, though it was much too late to hide his amusement. "You know you shouldn't confess that to your captain, right?"

"Confess what?" Leonard replied without missing a beat. "Did I say anything? I thought that was a little fly buzzing 'round the room."

"Definitely a fly," agreed Jim. He hoisted himself out of his chair. "If I'm gone from the Bridge any longer, Spock will have a look—you know I hate that look."

"I can picture it perfectly," Leonard told him dryly.

Jim placed a hand on McCoy's shoulder. "Thank you for your honesty, Bones. I promise things are going to be better."

"Don't make promises you can't keep."

"You know I don't," he said. "But if you want to help me keep that promise, please don't fight me anymore."

Leonard dipped his head in silent agreement.

"Good." Jim let go of McCoy and went to the doorway, saying as he strode through it, "Let's take a day to settle ourselves, and then I will set up a meeting. We _will _fix this!" His determination echoed in the room long after he had gone.

"Ah, Jim," Leonard said, still perched on the corner of his desk, and just shook his head.

* * *

**TBC, in which we finally get to the root of the issue... or in which star-charting takes a turn for something unpleasant?**

**Also, I fail at drabbles apparently.**


	4. Part Four

Leonard walked into the Ready Room with his arms crossed and a by-now familiar pinched expression on his face. Jim thought the man looked like he was ready to go to war. That was why it seemed reasonable enough to offer McCoy a smile and say, "Glad you could make it, Bones."

McCoy nodded, first to Jim and then gave a second perfunctory nod to the officer beside Kirk.

Jim could sense Spock pulling away already so he announced in his most obnoxiously cheerful voice and with a clap of his hands, "Great, we're all here! Now, I'm certain both of you are dying to know why I called you together so suddenly—"

Leonard's look said he knew the exact nature of the impromptu gathering.

"Captain, is this meeting necessary?"

"Are you interrupting me, Mr. Spock?" Jim asked too pleasantly.

People didn't think Spock could glower. They were very much wrong about that. Spock could glower better than Bones when he set his mind to it. It was something about those Vulcan eyebrows, Jim decided not for the first time (or, undoubtedly, the last).

"I have had a miserable couple of weeks. You, my friends, are the reason why so we're going to do something about that here and now."

Leonard, predictably, threw his hands up in the air. "Jim, it's not worth it, I told you. Spock's not gonna talk to me!"

"Captain, Dr. McCoy's assumption is correct. I cannot, given that the nature of this discussion will not pertain to 'ship's business', address him directly."

McCoy's expression showed his distaste. "Talk about being literal-minded. You like driving me insane, don't you?" the man accused the Vulcan.

Spock did not answer that, merely put his hands behind his back, looked the doctor dead in the eye, and proceeded to give Bones the silent treatment. Jim could have thrown his hands up in the air, too, so frustrated was he.

Instead he said, "Fine, I get it. It took me a while to accept the facts but clearly you hate each other." Ignoring Leonard's surprised look, Jim forged ahead with his new game plan.

"Guess what? I cannot—no, let me correct that: I _will not_ have two senior officers on my ship who have so little patience for tolerance. Effective immediately, one of you must transfer." He waved a hand nonchalantly at them like this was not the most awful thing he had ever said in his career as a captain. "I don't care who it is. Report the decision to me tomorrow."

"Jim!" Leonard's shock was evident for all to hear.

"No, Bones, you're right. Talking is pointless." He paused in order to study two of his best officers and more than that—two of his closest friends. "I require an answer, gentlemen—and only an answer. That will be all. Dismissed."

McCoy stepped forward, clearly bent on protesting Jim's newfound insanity.

Jim kept his voice implacable. "_Dismissed_."

Spock turned on his heel and walked out of the Ready Room like a woodwork doll Jim had sent marching away with the turn of a key. After giving Jim one last, uncertain look, Leonard followed Spock, leaving Jim alone in stiff silence.

A shaky laugh burbled out of Jim's throat and he wobbled on his legs, catching himself on the edge of a side table in the nick of time before he keeled over. By anyone's standards, this bluff might be a bit much. Jim simply couldn't think of any other way to force Spock and McCoy to talk.

And talk he hoped they did—if only to think up a way to outmaneuver him.

Jim took one deep breath, ran a hand over his face, and straightened his stance. Then he too returned to duty. Spock was not on the Bridge when Jim took a seat in the Captain's chair, and the Vulcan was not present for the remainder of the shift. Jim asked no one where he was.

* * *

"It doesn't make sense," Leonard muttered to himself. He automatically took a right at the fork in the corridor without thinking about it. In truth, he couldn't think of anything except Jim's sudden decision to boot one of them off the ship. What the hell had happened to Jim between yesterday's heart-to-heart and today's cold declaration?

Two burly engineers come out of a side corridor, carrying some kind of heavy plexi-glass between them. If Leonard hadn't been so immersed in his thoughts, he would have read their body language and known they were about to make a wide turn; but he didn't notice they were even there until he was almost upon them.

"Watch out!" cried one of the engineers with alarm as the three men collided and his gloved hands lost their grip on one end of the sheet of translucent material. Leonard had been knocked aside, to the floor, but not far enough out of range; in the split second while the glass tilted in his direction, Leonard knew with awful certainty and a paralyzing kind of fear what was going to happen: the glass would land on his legs. The material wouldn't break, as thick and heavy as it was, but it would snap one or both of his femurs. Crush a kneecap into tiny shards of bone.

He would never walk without pain again, no matter the surgery or rehabilitation. As a doctor, the outcome in that moment was crystal-clear.

Then someone simultaneously yanked at Leonard's tunic and wrenched his left arm nearly out of its socket, partly lifting his body up and hauling him backwards like he was made of air. The plexi-glass hit the floor with a dull thud, missing the toes of Leonard's boots by less than two inches.

Unprepared to have been put so suddenly on his feet, Leonard's knees buckled. His savior's arm caught him around the middle and prevented him from falling into an embarrassing heap.

Struck dumb, Leonard blinked up at Spock and said hoarsely, "_Jesus_."

"Dr. McCoy!" An engineer leapt over a corner of the glass, face a very contrasting white to his natural tan. "Are you hurt?"

Leonard straightened and Spock's arm fell away. "No," he said, taking consecutively deep breaths to stave off an onset of shock. "No, I'm a'right. I—" He turned to Spock to thank him but the words dried up in his mouth at the aura of fury surrounding the Vulcan.

"Mr. Harris and Mr. Igraine," the First Officer identified the other men, his words falling like precisely dropped stones in a pond, thereby causing rippling shivers of fear in the recipients of his ire, "do you realize what might have transpired here had I not been within reach to assist Dr. McCoy? Your carelessness would have led to his severe injury."

If possible, the first engineer paled further, his partner joining him at his side and also looking sick to his stomach.

_Not stones, but ice... and just as callous_, Leonard corrected himself as he too almost shivered at the First Officer's tone. Worse than any falling glass. Spock was scaring the bejesus out of these young men.

Inexplicably, a calm settled over Leonard.

"Commander Spock," he said formally, "if anyone is to blame for this accident, it is me. I was not paying attention to where I was going. The fault is purely mine, so I ask that you give proper reprimand where reprimand is due." He drew in a silent breath. "'N I'd like to thank you for saving me."

Some of the hostility faded from Spock's eyes as he considered McCoy and, in turn, McCoy's words. "Your legs would have been broken."

"Yes," Leonard agreed, "and again, that'd be nobody's fault but mine if it had happened." After a momentary pause, he added in a simple, quiet undertone, "Spock" as Jim would have done.

Spock returned his attention to the two wide-eyed (and very teary-eyed) engineers. "Gentlemen, please accept my apology for my error of designating blame. The words I entreated you with were unjust and unwarranted. If you wish to file a complaint, I will not contest it."

Both engineers reddened—no doubt palpitating by the mere thought of filing a complaint against Mr. Spock—and made hasty apologies of their own, in lieu of accepting Spock's. Leonard thought they were close to bowing in their enthusiasm to be released from the Vulcan's attention. After another round of apologies (which Spock assured the two men was unnecessary), the engineers grappled with the plexi-glass and hefted it upright. They set a pace down the corridor that wasn't as quick as they would have apparently liked it to be, but their movements were exceedingly careful and overly paranoid. They belllowed warnings so every passer-by in a twenty-foot radius would steer clear of them as if they carried a plague.

Leonard watched the men go with a shake of his head. "Poor fellas will probably hide under their bedcovers and pray this incident was a bad dream. I'll file the report myself."

"Doctor," the First Officer said, an odd note in his voice, "I request at this time that you accompany me."

Leonard could have said no, could have railed against that, but he knew such behavior was part of the problem between them. Thus he went with Spock, hoping his day wasn't about to get worse.

* * *

Spock offered to make him tea. Bemused by the hospitality, Leonard agreed that would be welcome. Then he sat at the round table in Spock's quarters, the furniture identical to the one in Jim's living area, and clasped his hands in front of him, watching the Vulcan's movements across the room.

The conversation was opened surprisingly by Spock himself as he set a steaming cup of mint tea before Leonard. "I do not like what almost happened today."

Leonard's eyebrows rose of their own accord. "Well, I'm not fond of the notion of my person being confined to a wheelchair either."

"That is not what I meant, Doctor—though I will concede such a thought is unfortunate."

"How kind of you," Leonard murmured against the side of his cup as he waited for the liquid to cool enough that he could take a sip of it. "So, what's disturbin' you?"

Spock stared unblinkingly at Leonard until, at length, he explained, "When Captain Kirk gave the order for one of us to transfer from the ship, I nearly agreed with him... and said it must be you who leaves."

Leonard was certain he flinched. He put down his cup with care, recognizing his immediate response not as anger but as something akin to despair. He met Spock's eyes. "Things've gotten bad, then."

"Yes." The Vulcan shifted suddenly, turning away. "Are you angry?"

"No." But looking at Spock's tense back, Leonard didn't think his answer was good enough. It took him several seconds to piece together what he wanted to say. "I'm not angry that you feel that way, Spock. I'm... disappointed? Hurt, too, if I'm to be honest with myself." He paused. "But more importantly, I think I understand. It would be a simple solution to a complex problem if one of us leaves."

"The thought was selfish of me, Doctor." With that remark, Spock paced slowly over to his computer desk and studied the top of the console. "It is not true that I or you have more right to be here than the other."

Leonard's mouth flattened into a grim line as he remembered precisely why they needed to have this conversation. "Thank you for sayin' that." If Spock glanced at McCoy, Leonard was too busy fussing agitatedly with the handle of his cup to notice. "Jim has some nerve!"

"The Captain is not himself."

"Damn straight he isn't! Maybe I ought to record in my medical log he needs his head examined—see how he likes _that_ demand!"

"You would, of course, require evidence to force the Captain to acquiesce to an evaluation. It is most unfortunate our erratic behavior lends credence to the belief that his order is a reasonable one."

"Reasonable, my ass! He's asking us to pick between ourselves who forfeits the best years of his career and who doesn't!"

"As I previously stated, the Captain is not himself."

Leonard deflated at Spock's unperturbed tone. "Yeah, that's true. Jim's upset and rightly so. We haven't given him an easy time of it."

"Fascinating," the Vulcan murmured. "You defy Jim in one breath, yet defend him in the next."

That eased Leonard's mind more than anything else could have. He gave Spock a lopsided grin. "Oh, to be human is to be contrary, Mr. Spock. I thought you knew that by now."

"Indeed, I am aware of it."

For a brief second, Leonard thought he saw a flash of the old Spock in those dark eyes—an amused Spock, the Spock who did not consider Leonard's every word to be a threat.

Spock stiffened noticeably then, perhaps seeing a similar affection in Leonard's face, and that old friend in his eyes retreated.

Leonard resisted the urge to yell at him _you can't just switch it off, you cold-blooded Vulcan!_ He caught the words in his head and shoved them down and away. They would be of no help. Instead, he tried speaking a language Spock could respond to: that of reason.

"Do you trust Jim?"

Spock's answer held no hesitancy. "Affirmative."

"'Course you do," Leonard said easily. "Me, too. Jim's the kind of man that even if we didn't need faith in him to see us safely through this five-year mission, we would want to place our trust in him anyway. And he's proven more than once he is capable of honoring that trust."

Spock inclined his head in agreement then turned his face away.

"So Jim's been right about a lot of things, and we trust him. Maybe then the sensible course of action here would be letting him help us work through our problems, just like his instincts have been pushing him to do since the beginning."

With the Vulcan's head bent over the computer console and his face obscured, Leonard could tell even less than he usually was able to about what Spock was thinking.

"There is irony in your statement, Doctor."

Leonard looked ruefully down at his folded hands. "I know. The one thing I haven't done in a while is act sensibly."

"Nor have I." The admission was soft but sincere.

There could be hope for him and Spock after all. "Look, Spock," he said with heartfelt honesty, "if there's any way we can get back to some semblance of the middle ground we used to have, I would be more than okay with that. I'd be glad."

But Spock did not reply, and once again Leonard was left wondering if he had made a mistake in assuming the Vulcan might want their reconciliation as much as he now realized he did. Sighing through his nose, Leonard drank his tea, leaving each of them alone with their thoughts.

* * *

**Exciting news! I am working on a Valentine's Day story for my readers - and it's a sequel of sorts to ****_The Holiday Waywards_****! Ah, the muse... she can be so whimsical. :)**

**Also, one part left to this.**


	5. Part Five

**Part Four went up yesterday. Please read it first if you have not!**

* * *

The tail hours of gamma shift found a sleepless Captain Kirk on his knees by his bedside. Head bowed over his hands, he began to murmur to the cool quiet of his room.

"Dear Lord, it's Jim Kirk. I'm not practiced at this sort of thing, so you'll have to pardon any offense I may inadvertently give to your great holiness. You see, I made a bad mistake." He paused, cleared his throat. "Okay, I've made several not-so-good mistakes over the years but I think we can both agree my track record has been improved significantly as of late. Anyway, here's the thing: in—" Jim peeked open one eye and asked, "Computer, what time is it?" The computer responded with its equivalent of 3 o'clock in the morning. Jim picked his prayer back up. "—in five hours I need you to send some Klingons. Not a lot," he tacked on hastily. "One Bird-of-Prey will do. But, Klingons, yeah. I can't possibly have time to deal with Spock and Bones if I'm fighting _them_."

Jim lifted his head, opened his eyes, and started to get up before he realized what he was forgetting. Quickly resuming the proper position for prayer (as taught to him by every holy picture in the Iowa church he infrequently attended as a young child), he cried fervently, "Amen!"

Then he stood up and smoothed the front of his sleeping tunic.

Desperate times called for desperate measures. Hopefully the Higher Power would take pity on this poor Jim Kirk and prevent him from enacting the ultimate desperate measure to restore peace to his ship—which was hiding in the Jefferies Tubes and refusing to come out until everyone agreed to play nice 'til the day they retired.

* * *

A body hit the floor with a hard thud that had nearby officers pausing in their own exercise or recreational activities.

"E-Excellent," wheezed the Captain of the starship Enterprise, who was splayed out on his back. "Good job, Giotto."

The Chief of Security, Samuel Giotto, bent over the prone man with a concerned expression. "Are you all right, sir?"

Kirk dismissed the concern with a small groan and said, "We can go again... in a minute. Just give me a minute."

Giotto nodded and stepped back, turning away to run a critical eye over the other sparring partners in the gym. Kirk must be very distracted today; otherwise they would have wrestled for at least another three minutes before Giotto was able to flip the man over his shoulder to the mat. Next round he'll let Kirk pin him for a few seconds just so things were fair.

Whispering caught his attention. Giotto glanced back at his superior officer, still laid flat on the mat, and was taken slightly aback by the unusual sight. Kirk was in the process of finishing his rapid-fire speech (the security chief heard the words "Klingons" and "amen") over clasped hands, his eyes closed. Once the praying was done, he rolled onto his side, climbed to his feet, and took a defensive stance.

Giotto looked at the younger man for a number of seconds, wondering if he hadn't accidentally damaged his captain a little in the head.

Then Kirk flashed his trademark devil-may-care grin, the kind Giotto imagined Kirk had practiced in his bar-brawling days (if rumors were to be believed), and raised his fists. "Ready when you are."

Giotto shifted his weight, let his muscles coil in preparation for a pounce-attack and replied, "Ready, sir."

* * *

When Spock showed up in Leonard's office halfway through alpha shift, Leonard sighed and said, "Is it my imagination, or is Jim everywhere except where he should be today?"

"He was last seen jogging back and forth across the observation deck. I believe his appearance was described as one who is full of anticipation."

"Jittery?" Leonard asked curiously.

Spock's tone became dry. "I was extrapolating in order to preserve the Captain's image. The ensign's precise statement of record was 'he looks kinda manic'."

"Ooh," Leonard replied, "that's never a good sign."

"It is not."

The doctor pushed out of his chair. "Then I suppose we ought to fetch him. Got any reservations about me carrying along a sedative?"

"None, Doctor."

_Well_, Leonard thought wryly as they left the medical bay, _at least we can get along where Jim is concerned._

* * *

Should he head back to Engineering?

No, probably not. Scotty had seemed a bit too harried about one of his projects. He had all but booted Jim out of his domain.

Which didn't seem right, Jim thought. Technically every nook and cranny of the Enterprise was the captain's domain, and he was the captain. Why should the Chief Engineer be allowed to send Jim toddling along with a 'Now's not a good time, Capt'n. Come back 'n the morn, and I'll give ye a peek at somethin' that'll make the other starships look like garbage scows!"?

It was something proprietary in a commanding officer's makeup. Bones was the same way with Sickbay. Jim couldn't poke his nose into _anything _ without a threat of having it rot off from some kind of localized plague courtesy of his best friend. The nurses thought the CMO's brandishing of a hypospray was funny; Jim, not so much. It gave him terrible phantom pains in his neck.

There was an unspoken understanding that Jim never, ever entered the Science laboratories. He was fairly certain someone had rigged a trap door just beyond the threshold that would deposit a trespasser into a chute that fed directly to the laundry boilers. After all, captains could be replaced; the results of a scientific test might be able to be redone but never with perfect or empirical duplication. Every experiment was a work of art. (Or so he had heard from the over-excitable scientists' talk in the mess hall.)

The one place that truly belonged to Jim was the Bridge. Unfortunately, that seemed like the one area he had to avoid today.

Until the Klingons arrived, that is.

"Please, God," Jim murmured. "_Any time now would be great._"

"So you've taken to praying," an amused voice drawled at Kirk's back.

Jim froze in place.

McCoy, who had snuck up on Jim (_how is that even possible?_ Jim wondered, flabbergasted), circled around to his right until the two men were in full view of one another, though the dimensions of the passageway were tight.

Nonchalance worked well in these situations for Jim. He knew that. "Hey, Bones, what brings you up here?"

McCoy eyed their surroundings and replied with heavy sarcasm, "Oh, you know me, Jim... I like hanging out in air shafts."

Jim rubbed at his nose. "This is a maintenance shaft. The ductwork for the central air is that way." He pointed across the gaping hole that was the main shaft. One could climb down the ladder built into the circular wall and access any of the decks where hatches were available.

As Bones peered over the edge at the long, seemingly bottomless well of the shaft, his expression was easy enough to read.

"Just stay behind me," Jim said, "and you'll be fine." Bones didn't like heights any better than he liked shuttles or the transporter.

"How 'bout you do me a favor and scoot away from that ledge you're on?"

"It's not a ledge." Jim thumped the heels of his boots against the wall below him with a swing of his legs. "Why?" he asked, suddenly feeling cheeky. "Are you worried about me?"

But instead of answering McCoy looked over Jim's head. "A little help here?"

Jim's balance did feel suddenly precarious when a familiar monotone answered. "Captain, it would be best if you attempt to appease Dr. McCoy."

Eyes wide, Jim braced a hand against the paneling of his 'ledge' and twisted around to voice his surprise to Spock. "You and Bones came together!"

The Vulcan lifted one eyebrow at the rather unenlightening observation.

That was Jim's fatal mistake, it would later seem. Often hunting parties in the animal kingdom consisted of pairs. One would distract while the other struck out at the targeted prey—a deadly game played by an effective partnership.

An unsuspecting Kirk received a hypospray to the neck in one fell swoop. Stunned by the attack, he flung out an arm and wobbled on his perch. Leonard grabbed the front of Jim's tunic and hauled him bodily into the small maintenance shaft, saying, "None of that flailing now, Jim. We wouldn't want you to tip over and make some poor ensign scrape you off the bottom deck."

"That joke is quite macabre, Doctor."

"Who said it was a joke? Fool idiot, sitting up here like he thinks he's an eagle in a nest!"

Jim's vision grew fuzzy, as did his hearing. He thought he heard Spock reply but couldn't be sure. "D-Did you d-drug me?"

A hand brushed the side of his face; the action was gentle. "Just a tiny bit of sedative—enough that we can take you back to your quarters without a fuss, Captain."

Jim's body shifted without his permission, and the world turned upside down.

Someone might have been saying, "Thanks, Spock. He's heavier than he looks."

"You are welcome, Dr. McCoy. Shall we proceed to the nearest deck entrance?"

* * *

Jim woke up two hours later feeling more refreshed than he had in days. _Sleep will do that because sleep is a good, good thing_, he thought muzzily as he blinked against the lowered lights of his quarters. He caught a flash of movement from the corner of his eye and let his head fall to the side as he came fully awake. The divider between his bed and his central living area wasn't long enough to obscure the person sitting at a cluttered table, legs crossed and boots propped against the table's edge.

Jim scrubbed a hand across his eyes and sat up so he could swing his legs over the edge of the bed. He padded towards McCoy on bare feet, asking, "Where's Spock?"

"Running your ship."

"Oh." Jim pulled out a chair and dropped into it. It would take a couple more minutes for the heaviness in his limbs to fade. He rolled his head from side to side to stretch the muscles of his neck. "You know, I think there's some regulation that prohibits sedating your captain against his will."

"Not one that matters," Bones replied as he poked at something on the screen of his data padd.

Jim propped his chin in his hand. "Then, if you were a friend at all, you would have at least refrained from drugging me on my personal day."

Leonard's eyes flicked up to meet his. "The funny thing about that, Jim," the doctor drawled almost too lazily, "is you taking a personal day right after you delivered one hell of an ultimatum."

"I forgot?"

Leonard put away his padd; he didn't look amused. "Want to tell me what's going on, Captain?"

Jim bowed his head to hide his grimace. He didn't want to be a captain right now. "I may have bitten off more than I can chew," he muttered under his breath.

"Tell me about it." Leonard seemed perfectly content to eavesdrop on all of Jim's self-recriminations. "Jim, neither Spock nor I like to be jerked around."

That brought Jim's head up in an instant. "It's not like that, Bones."

Leonard was watching with eyes too dark to read. "Isn't it?"

The disbelief hurt Jim—and scratched the surface of his temper too. "I wanted you to realize what I would ultimately be forced to do if a resolution to your hostility cannot be reached," he replied, unable to soften the hard edge to his voice. "You should appreciate the warning, Dr. McCoy."

"So you would send one of us away?"

Jim's fingers curled into a fist but he didn't strike out like he might have tried to do in a different situation. "Do you think I would have a choice in the matter? All it takes is for the wrong person to hear about it, a rumor even, and my hand could be forced by Command. Don't think they care about either of you the way I do!"

The tight line of McCoy's mouth eased slightly. "Jim."

Jim flung himself back in his chair, which did nothing to ease his frustration. "This team of ours is the best there is, Bones, and everyone knows it. To some people—some very _stupid_ people—that may be more of a threat than a boon. Then there's the hard fact that the 'Fleet isn't what it was before Nero. It's _desperate_ for good command material. So for all of the bullshit talk about unity and brotherhood what we have isn't _safe_." He held his friend's eyes. "If I can catch a potential problem on the front-end and prevent it from exposing one of our vulnerabilities, I have a better chance of keeping us together. Doesn't that matter to you?"

His throat ached from his desperation. This is what he had feared, that McCoy and Spock couldn't understand why he felt so desperate. His crew—he never wanted to lose his crew. Crew was family.

"Jim," Leonard said, and there was both fondness and sadness in his face, "I get it. Believe me, I do."

"How can you?" Jim asked wearily. "Fighting with Spock the way you do, how can I believe you fully understand what a rift does to us?"

Leonard leaned forward. "'Cause I'm here, Jim, and Spock... well, shit, Spock would be here if he wasn't on the Bridge. We agreed that we want you to help us put things right."

Something joyous leapt inside Jim, and he drew in a breath. "Okay," he said, releasing the air from his lungs slowly. "Okay." Then he moved over to his desk and activated a communication link. "Kirk to Bridge."

"Yes, Captain?" his Chief Communications Officer answered.

"Can you spare Commander Spock for half of an hour, Lt. Uhura?"

"No need for that, sir" was the woman's amused reply. "He's on his way to you."

Jim terminated the link.

Leonard had folded his arms in the meantime and pursed his mouth in typical McCoy-_why should I be surprised? _ fashion. "I think that Vulcan's more telepathic than he wants us to know he is."

Jim was about to sit down in his chair again when the door to his quarters chimed. "Spock!" he cried, pleased, when the Vulcan entered.

Spock stopped in his tracks and considered Jim's cheerful expression.

Leonard sighed loudly and made excessive noise as he stacked his padds to the side on the table. "All right, fine, let's get this session started," the doctor announced, sounding long-suffering. "Just be warned. I've been through relationship counseling before and the outcome ended in divorce."

"Doctor, we are not married."

Jim opened his mouth (seriously, was he supposed to let that once-in-a-lifetime opportunity pass by?) but Leonard glared fiercely at him and growled, "So help me... If you make a single smartass remark, Jim, I will murder you with my bare hands and not even the ninja Vulcan over there will be able to stop me!"

"Aw, Bones, you're killing me here!"

"That's the idea."

"Gentlemen," Spock interrupted, "please desist. Your banter is not as educational for me as you seem to believe it is."

Leonard joined Jim in staring at Spock.

Jim blinked. "That... was a Vulcan smack-down, I think."

"Well I'll be," Leonard said admiringly.

Jim wondered if Spock had a headache yet. Did half-Vulcans get headaches if they could control their pain centers? That was another question for another day, but Jim was certain he would not to forget it. His curiosity was the most praised aspect of his personality. (Well, okay, maybe not. That was his amazing charm, right?)

He took a seat, or rather flopped into it, and said, "I hereby declare this marriage counseling session started!"

With a strangled noise, Bones tried to leap over the table. The Vulcan removed the doctor to a safe distance and cast an unappreciative look in Jim's direction.

Jim, feeling a smidgen of regret now that he had successfully pushed McCoy's buttons, cleared his throat sheepishly. "Sorry... old habits die hard."

McCoy crossed his arms. "Just get on with it."

Jim thought in silence for a long minute before he came to a decision. "We should revisit the argument about your parents. That's what started your fight, isn't it?"

Panic flashed through Leonard's eyes. "I'm not talking about my dad."

Jim lifted his hands in a calming gesture, afraid McCoy might make a run for the door if the wrong thing was said. How did licensed therapists do this with the emotionally scarred? Jim had a newfound respect for them—but not that he would ever talk to one of his own free will.

"I'm not asking you to, Bones." His gaze flickered over to the quiet Vulcan. _Help me out here, Spock. Please._

Perhaps Spock read the helplessness in his face. The Vulcan said, "When Dr. McCoy spoke of my mother, I... did not react well."

_Thank you_. Jim sank back into his chair in relief. At least now they had somewhere to start.

Leonard had turned to stare at Spock. "I know I prodded a sore spot, but..." He fell silent, a signal Jim recognized well that McCoy had something on his mind which mattered to him.

"Bones, what did you say exactly?"

The man answered, looking uncomfortable. "'At least I don't honor the memory of my parent by scorning everything that he was just because I believe I'm from a superior race of beings.'" McCoy grimaced but he met Jim's eyes. "That mighta been harsh, Jim, but it's still the truth as I see it."

Spock had grown unnaturally still, his voice low enough to be considered strained. "I—nor my father—have ever considered my mother to be less because she was not Vulcan."

"That's not the point, Spock," Leonard cut in before Jim could put in a word edge-wise. "How can you possibly treat us humans as—as if we're _deficient_ when your own mother was a human!"

"Bones," Jim warned, standing up, "tread carefully. Spock has a high regard for us. You know that."

"Do I, Jim? Maybe he doesn't talk down to you because you're the captain of this vessel, but there've been times..." Leonard's expression was heartbreakingly defensive. Jim could see the evidence of McCoy's stress in the working of his jaw. "I know racism when I see it."

Spock's voice held bite as he pointed out, "Then what would you consider your words to me, Doctor, when you belittle my countenance and my heritage with your derogatory descriptions? If there is any person aboard this ship who exudes symptoms of xenophobia, it would be you."

Leonard took a step back as though Spock had physically struck him. "That's not true. I'm not a xenophobe—I _can't_ be, Spock. I'm a doctor, for Christ's sake, on an intergalactic space ship!"

Jim didn't know what to do. The heart of the matter wasn't simply a misunderstanding; it was about the way Spock and McCoy saw each other—and of what they saw, they didn't like. He couldn't tell them they were wrong, only...

He raised his voice slightly. "I hear what you're both saying but let me tell you what I know, too. Spock, Bones calls me an idiot and a kid and a lot of other words a subordinate should never use to address his superior if he doesn't want indefinite janitorial duty—"

Leonard didn't look repentant in the least when Jim shot him a sidelong glance.

"—but I can tell the difference between when he's being mean and when he is _pretending_ to be mean. It's a defense mechanism Bones can't help, and personally I think he's grown so used to it that he has become rather fond of insulting people he likes."

"Okay, that's enough!" Leonard interrupted, clearly not amused. "Stop psychoanalyzing me. I'm the one with the degree in psychology, you dimwit!"

Jim pointed at Bones. "See?"

Leonard flushed, no doubt just realizing he had done what Jim said he would. Spock looked at Leonard, and Jim had to restrain himself from whooping with triumph at the hint of curiosity, however analytical, in Spock's eyes.

"I... believe I follow your logic, Jim, yet you must realize Dr. McCoy insulted your intelligence."

Jim rocked back on his heels, smiling widely. "Yes, but he knows I'm brilliant, Spock. And he knows that I know he knows."

One of the Vulcan's eyebrows twitched at that.

Jim continued on merrily, "I will concede that Bones does need to learn how to tone down his enthusiasm. Bones, can you try to say something nice for every un-nice thing you say?"

Leonard sputtered and looked like his tongue was tripping over a whole list of 'un-nice' things about Jim. Face red, the doctor finally regained his voice and demanded, "Well, congratulations, you've made Spock feel better! What about me? How can you possibly rationalize Spock's—"

"Easily," Jim said, dismissing the rest of Leonard's complaint. "We're human, Bones. We're actually kind of terrifying for a Vulcan."

Leonard's dubious look said he needed more convincing.

"I'm certain Spock spends a majority of his time trying to decrypt our mysterious ways, and you have to admit considering how very different we are from Vulcans, that must be an onerous task for him."

Leonard folded his arms but nodded.

"More importantly," Jim went on to explain, "how would you feel if you were the only human on a ship full of Vulcans?"

"I'd probably throw myself out of an airlock."

"Sure, if you wanted to die that badly. Realistically though, even if no one was unpleasant to you, you would always know you could not fit in perfectly with them, so..." He left the sentence open-ended for McCoy to finish, which the doctor did.

"I would have my hackles raised all the time."

With a new kind of understanding in his eyes, Leonard turned to Spock. Spock was too busy boring holes into Jim's skull with the laser-like intensity of his eyes to notice, and Jim decided to play oblivious to Spock's displeasure.

Leonard said, "I make things worse for you, don't I, when I poke at you? I guess for all my talk about how unlike we are, I really didn't expect you to react differently than a human would. I'm sorry, Spock."

Spock's attention was drawn from Jim to Leonard by the sincerity of the man's tone. "I accept your apology, Doctor, though I feel I must correct some of the Captain's more... extreme assumptions. I do not, as you say, have my 'hackles' continuously erected. Nor am I deeply isolated from other crewmembers."

Jim bit down on the inside of his cheek to hold back a laugh.

Leonard smiled. "'Course not, Mr. Spock." Then the man cleared his throat and offered to stop making 'derogatory descriptions' of Spock's person. "I can't promise I won't slip up in the heat of the moment," he confessed, "but I don't want you to... to take those words to heart. It's not a bad thing that you're a Vulcan, Spock. There's plenty of good in it, especially in a position like yours on a ship like this."

"But I frustrate you," Spock clarified.

"A lot" was McCoy's dry response.

"Indeed. The sentiment is often mutual." After a pause, Spock added slowly, "If the intent is not offensive in nature, I can accept a customary label. I only request you do not choose to address me as a 'kid', for this name is more appropriately suited to the captain's persona than mine."

Leonard smiled again. "You're definitely not a kid, Spock—not like Jim is—but you are a bit of a hobgoblin."

One of Spock's eyebrows arched. "I am unfamiliar with that terminology. What is a hobgoblin?"

"Oh, it's somethin' I thought up a little while ago..."

Jim's heart felt near-to-bursting. "This is great!"

Spock and McCoy turned as one to look at him.

His failure to contain his excitement was apparent for all to see. "Are we okay now?"

"Don't know, Jim. Is the ban still in effect?"

Jim fist-pumped the air and announced, "Nope. As the great Captain Kirk, I officially rescind it! You may go forth, my jedis, and be friends!" Then he began a not-so-subtle happy dance around his desk.

Spock put his back to Jim and spoke to McCoy. "It is fortunate our socialization is no longer restricted to the Captain. Were it otherwise, at this moment I would be forced to retire to my quarters and partake of a meal without the aid of stimulating conversation."

Leonard waved a hand at the door. "By all means, Commander, let's get outta here then. Jim," he called over his shoulder as he and Spock walked away, "watch out for the—!"

But Jim wasn't paying attention, and his happy dance came to an abrupt end as he tripped backwards over one of his errant boots. With a squawk of surprise, the man hit the side of a short couch with an _oof_ and tipped over it to face-plant on the floor.

The door to Jim's quarters slid open to McCoy's sigh and Spock's "I assume, when we next encounter the Captain, we must pretend we were not party to this embarrassing conclusion."

"That's the way of it, Spock," agreed Leonard. "Say, when do you have time to come down to the biolab? It's been a real pain in my ass tryin' to calculate some of those fluctuating growth rates on my own."

"I am available for the remainder of beta shift. Now that we are conversing, Doctor, there is a matter I regret to bring to your attention. Your latest report was, I believe the term is, 'lost in subspace'. If you will resend the report, I will process it without delay."

"Sure thing, though it might need a little fixing up before you send it off to Command."

"That is acceptable."

Their voices were cut off by the closing of the door. Jim, still on the floor of his quarters, rolled onto his back, folded his arms beneath his head and gave the ceiling at a satisfied smile. A while later, he came close to drifting off into a hard-worn sleep.

Then the klaxons began to scream. An officer's voice could be heard in every room, corridor and crawl space. "Red alert! Battle stations! This is not a drill. I repeat, this is not a drill!"

Kirk's desk comm came to life before he could punch the button to connect him to the Bridge. "Captain," Uhura's melodic voice filtered over the speaker. She had that tone that meant serious business.

Jim tried shoving a foot into a boot, cursed when it wouldn't go in, and realized the boot was backwards. "Kirk here!"

"You're needed on the Bridge immediately, sir. A battalion of Birds-Of-Prey just appeared out of nowhere!" Uhura went on to say that she couldn't understand how or why they would be out here in the back-end of space.

Klingons! Oh shit. How many times did he repeat his prayer for Klingons? Twenty-six, that he can remember.

Jim managed to get his feet into the proper boots and facing the proper way and snatched up his green wraparound tunic just in case the shirt he was wearing somehow became ruined. (It usually did, for no real reason that he or the Supply & Outfitting department could fathom.)

"On my way, Lieutenant. Kirk out!"

_-Fini_


End file.
